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JOHN  HENRY  NASH 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/californiaOOcoolrich 


K* 


BY 


INA   COOLBRITH 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

THE  BOOK  CLUB  OF  CALIFORNIA 

MDCCCCXVIII 


* 


500  COPIES  PRINTED  BY 

JOHN  HENRY  NASH,  SAN  FRANCISCO 

DECORATIONS  BY  LAWRENCE  B.  HASTE 

PORTRAIT  BY  DAN  SWEENEY 


COPYRIGHT,  1918,  BY  INA  COOLBRITH 


INTRODUCTION 


I  HAVE  always  believed  that  the  Poet  of  the  New 
World— of  the  World— was  to  come  out  of  the 
West— from  California.  Why  not?  Would  it  be 
more  strange  that  this  broad  land  by  the  shores 
of  the  vast  Pacific  should  produce  the  Supreme  Singer, 
than  that  a  little  Island  of  the  far  Atlantic  should 
have  given  birth  to  the  Bard  of  Avon— to  that  kinglier 
brow  than  ever  wore  a  crown  ? 

For  California  is  a  Poem!  The  land  of  romance,  of 
mystery,  of  worship,  of  beauty  and  of  Song.  It  chants 
from  her  snow-crested,  cloud-bannered  mountain- 
ranges;  it  hymns  thro*  her  forests  of  sky-reaching  pine 
and  sequoia;  it  ripples  in  her  flowered  and  fruited 
valleys;  it  thunders  from  her  fountains  pouring,  as  it 
were,  from  the  very  waters  above  the  firmament;  it 
anthems  from  the  deeps  of  the  mightiest  ocean  of  the 
world;  and  echoes  ever  in  the  syllables  of  her  own 
strangely  beautiful  name,— California. 

The  spell  of  enchantment  which  she  wove  about  me 
from  the  day  when— a  little  child— I  entered  her  bor- 
ders thro'  the  rocky  mountain-pass  from  the  long  trail 
aaoss  the  great  plains,  was  not  lessened  by  the  after- 


INTRODUCTION 


vision  of  the  Southland  grape  and  jig,  orange  and 
pomegranate,— or  the  (so-called)  deserts  of  sand  and 
ca8i,  which  the  spring  months  covered  with  a  carpet  of 
bloom  rivalling  the  richest  dyes  of  the  Persian  looms. 
Rather  has  it  increased  with  the  passing  of  time. 

And  then  she  is,  as  our  brothers  of  France  would 
say,  of  such  a  Bigness;  is  so  stupendous!  Surely,  of 
her,  greatness  only  should  be  bom :  why  not  the  great- 
est of  all,— the  Master  Singer? 

With  all  this  mind-enwoven,  it  was  but  natural, 
when  in  after  years  I  was  asked  by  the  University  of 
California  to  contribute  a  poem  for  its  Commence- 
ment Day,  that  I  should  seek  to  voice  my  belief  How 
inadequate  the  expression  to  the  inner  song  only  I 
may  fully  realize.  Yet  am  I  glad  that  the  first  Com- 
mencement Poem  to  be  mitten  by  a  woman  for  any 
university,  is  of,  and  bears  the  name  of  California. 

Ina  Coolbrith. 


CALIFORNIA 


WAS  it  the  sigh  and  shiver  of  the  leaves  ? 
Was  it  the  murmur  of  the  meadow  brook. 
That  in  and  out  the  reeds  and  water  weeds 
Slipped  silverly,  and  on  their  tremulous  keys 
Uttered  her  many  melodies  ?  Or  voice 
Of  the  far  sea,  red  with  the  sunset  gold, 
That  sang  within  her  shining  shores,  and  sang 
Within  the  Gate,  that  in  the  sunset  shone 
A  gate  of  fire  against  the  outer  world? 

ir'oR,  ever  as  I  turned  the  magic  page 
Of  that  old  song  the  old,  blind  singer  sang 
Unto  the  world,  when  it  and  song  were  young — 
The  ripple  of  the  reeds,  or  odorous. 
Soft  sigh  of  leaves,  or  voice  of  the  far  sea — 
A  mystical,  low  murmur,  tremulous 
Upon  the  wind,  came  in  with  musk  of  rose. 
The  salt  breath  of  the  waves,  and  far,  faint  smell 
Of  laurel  up  the  slopes  of  Tamalpais.  .  .  . 


CALIFORNIA 


/\m  I  less  fair,  am  I  less  fair  than  these. 

Daughters  of  far-off  seas  ? 
Daughters  of  far-off  shores, — bleak,  over-blown 
With  foam  of  fretful  tides,  with  wail  and  moan 
Of  waves,  that  toss  wild  hands,  that  clasp  and  beat 
Wild,  desolate  hands  above  the  lonely  sands. 
Printed  no  more  with  pressure  of  their  feet: 
That  chase  no  more  the  light  feet  flying  swift 

Up  golden  sands,  nor  lift 
Foam  fingers  white  unto  their  garment  hem. 

And  flowing  hair  of  them. 

For  these  are  dead:  the  fair,  great  queens  are  dead! 
The  long  hair 's  gold  a  dust  the  wind  bloweth 

Wherever  it  may  list; 

The  curved  lips,  that  kissed 
Heroes  and  kings  of  men,  a  dust  that  breath. 
Nor  speech,  nor  laughter,  ever  quickeneth; 

And  all  the  glory  sped 


CALIFORNIA 


From  the  large,  marvelous  eyes,  the  light  whereof 
Wrought  wonder  in  their  hearts, — desire,  and  love  I 

And  wrought  not  any  good: 
But  strife,  and  curses  of  the  gods,  and  food. 

And  fire  and  battle-death  I 

Am  I  less  fair,  less  fair. 

Because  that  my  hands  bear 
Neither  a  sword,  nor  any  flaming  brand. 
To  blacken  and  make  desolate  my  land. 
But  on  my  brows  are  leaves  of  olive  boughs, 

And  in  mine  arms  a  dove! 

"^EA-BORN  and  goddess,  blossom  of  the  foam. 
Pale  Aphrodite,  shadowy  as  a  mist 

Not  any  sun  hath  kissed! 

Tawny  of  limb  I  roam. 
The  dusks  of  forests  dark  within  my  hair; 

The  far  Tosemite, 
For  garment  and  for  covering  of  me. 


nr 


CALIFORNIA 


Wove  the  white  foam  and  mist. 
The  amber  and  the  rose  and  amethyst 
Of  her  wild  fountains,  shaken  loose  in  air. 
And  I  am  of  the  hills  and  of  the  sea: 
Strong  with  the  strength  of  my  great  hills,  and  calm 
With  calm  of  the  fair  sea,  whose  billowy  gold 
Girdles  the  land  whose  queen  and  love  I  am  ! 

Lot  am  I  less  than  thou, 
That  with  a  sound  of  lyres,  and  harp-playing. 

Not  any  voice  doth  sing 
The  beauty  of  mine  eyelids  and  my  brow? 
Nor  hymn  in  all  my  fair  and  gracious  ways. 

And  lengths  of  golden  days. 
The  measure  and  the  music  of  my  praise? 

""/\h,  what  indeed  is  this 
Old  land  beyond  the  seas,  that  ye  should  miss 
For  her  the  grace  and  majesty  of  mine? 
Are  not  the  fruit  and  vine 


I  CALIFORNIA  | 


Fair  on  my  hills,  and  in  my  vales  the  rose  ? 

The  palm-tree  and  the  pine 
Strike  hands  together  under  the  same  skies 

In  every  wind  that  blows. 

What  clearer  heavens  can  shine 
Above  the  land  whereon  the  shadow  lies 
Of  her  dead  glory,  and  her  slaughtered  kings, 

And  lost,  evanished  gods  ? 

Upon  my  fresh  green  sods 
No  king  has  walked  to  curse  and  desolate: 
But  in  the  valleys  Freedom  sits  and  sings. 

And  on  the  heights  above; 
Upon  her  brows  the  leaves  of  olive  boughs. 

And  in  her  arms  a  dove; 
And  the  great  hills  are  pure,  undesecrate. 

White  with  their  snows  untrod. 
And  mighty  with  the  presence  of  their  God! 


n 


CALIFORNIA 


''"JriEARKEN,  how  many  years 
I  sat  alone,  I  sat  alone  and  heard 

Only  the  silence  stirred 
By  wind  and  leaf,  by  clash  of  grassy  spears, 
And  singing  bird  that  called  to  singing  bird. 

Heard  but  the  savage  tongue 
Of  my  brown  savage  children,  that  among 
The  hills  and  valleys  chased  the  buck  and  doe. 

And  round  the  wigwam  fires 
Chanted  wild  songs  of  their  wild  savage  sires. 
And  danced  their  wild,  weird  dances  to  and  fro. 
And  wrought  their  beaded  robes  of  buffalo. 

Day  following  upon  day. 
Saw  but  the  panther  crouched  upon  the  limb. 

Smooth  serpents,  swift  and  slim. 
Slip  through  the  reeds  and  grasses,  and  the  bear 

Crush  through  his  tangled  lair 
Of  chaparral,  upon  the  startled  prey  ! 


u 


CALIFORNIA  | 


'■''LjISTEN,  how  I  have  seen 
Flash  of  strange  fires  in  gorge  and  black  ravine; 
Heard  the  sharp  clang  of  steel,  that  came  to  drain 

The  mountain's  golden  vein  — 
And  laughed  and  sang,  and  sang  and  laughed  again. 
Because  that  'now,'  1  said,  'I  shall  be  known! 

I  shall  not  sit  alone; 
But  reach  my  hands  unto  my  sister  lands! 

And  they  ?  Will  they  not  turn 
Old,  wondering  dim  eyes  to  me,  and  yearn  — 

Aye,  they  will  yearn,  in  sooth. 
To  my  glad  beauty,  and  my  glad  fresh  youth!' 

"  What  matters  though  the  morn 
Redden  upon  my  singing  fields  of  corn! 
What  matters  though  the  wind's  unresting  feet 

Ripple  the  gold  of  wheat. 

And  my  vales  run  with  wine. 

And  on  these  hills  of  mine 


n 


CALIFORNIA 


The  orchard  boughs  droop  heavy  with  ripe  fruit  ? 

IVhen  with  nor  sound  of  lute 
Nor  lyre,  doth  any  singer  chant  and  sing 

Me,  in  my  lifr's  fitir  spring: 
The  matin  song  of  me  in  my  young  day? 
But  all  my  lays  and  legends  fade  away 
From  lake  and  mountain  to  the  farther  hem 
Of  sea,  and  there  be  none  to  gather  them. 

""""L-zO !  /  have  waited  long! 
How  longer  yet  must  my  strung  harp  be  dumb. 

Ere  its  great  master  come  ? 
Till  the  fair  singer  comes  to  wake  the  strong. 
Rapt  chords  of  it  unto  the  new,  glad  song! 

Him  a  diviner  speech 

My  song-birds  wait  to  teach : 

The  secrets  of  the  field 

My  blossoms  will  not  yield 

To  other  hands  than  his; 


:e'',^^' 


I  CALIFORNIA  | 


And,  lingering  for  this. 
My  laurels  lend  the  glory  of  their  boughs 

To  crown  no  narrower  brows. 
For  on  his  lips  must  wisdom  sit  with  youth. 
And  in  his  eyes,  and  on  the  lids  thereof, 

The  light  of  a  great  love — 

And  on  his  forehead,  truth !"  .  .  . 

Was  it  the  wind,  or  the  soft  sigh  of  leaves, 
Or  sound  of  singing  waters  ?  Lo,  I  looked. 
And  saw  the  silvery  ripples  of  the  brook. 
The  fruit  upon  the  hills,  the  waving  trees. 
And  mellow  f  elds  of  harvest;  saw  the  Gate 
Burn  in  the  sunset;  the  thin  thread  of  mist 
Creep  white  across  the  Saucelito  hills; 
Till  the  day  darkened  down  the  ocean  rim. 
The  sunset  purple  slipped  from  Tamalpais, 
And  bay  and  sky  were  bright  with  sudden  stars. 


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